Born to Kill, Born to Die
by courtofthefallen
Summary: After the 100th Hunger Game's horrible twist, people would think the Capitol would lay it low for a few years, give the Tributes better odds. But this is the Capitol. Who can say what the Capitol would invent for the 101st Games, just to remind people that they are the one in control?
1. Chapter 1

_《_ _Bloodlust》_

* * *

 **Aquila Neve (Capitol Citizen, Female, Age 13)**

 ** _I twirled the black wire in my hand_** , not really paying attention to whatever garbage the teacher was prattling on about. I mean, please, being the Head Gamemaker's daughter really makes you know everything about Panem's history, especially the Hunger Games- and all the gory details- way before anyone bothers learning. Catching Katrina's eye, I winked and tapped the area where my ear was- except it was being covered by my hair. I grinned and rolled her eyes in return. Leaning against my arms, I scanned the digital board. Stifling a yawn, I raised my hand since everyone else looked like they were falling asleep.

"Yes, Ms Neve?"

"The answers to the questions are ACB," I said pointedly, after I wrenched out my ear-buds, gesturing to the board lazily, "Finch Arbor won the 74th Games. Gale Hawthorne led the rebellion. He was then tricked to go to the Capitol because they had captured the other Victors, and his girlfriend, Katniss Everdeen." I raised my eyebrows at him and enjoy him recoil at my glare. He knew, I held more status here, even as a student. I was the second most powerful figure's daughter.

"Very nice answers, please stand up next time you answer." I rolled my eyes at that statement. The teacher pretended he did not notice and went back to his lesson. Feeling the stares of the other students- envy, awe, and Katrina's triumph- I let out a little smirk.

I let my arms go slack, letting daydreams sweep through me, thinking of later. The Reaping. Now then, which dress? Glancing at the teacher every now and then, I took out my phone and flicked through yesterday's new order. The blue one sets off my eyes. The black one has the air of 'poshness'...

Finally, the bell rang. Katrina, the richer ones and I daId out of the room, hurrying back home to prepare for the mass viewing later. My hands found Katrina's and I dragged her all the way back to my house.

***

Throwing open the doors to my walk in closet, I left Katrina to do whatever I wanted, I had plenty to spare. I went over to the first hook, eyes racking across a number of dresses there were, trying to find that black one that really complemented my hair.

After all the torturous decisions to choose, I grabbed my ready packed sling-bag and gestured for Katrina to leave. In the instant I locked the door, a slick car arrived at my doorsteps. I opened the door and slipped in, choosing the second row. Wincing as I heard the heated argument, I realised I did not have to bother. My parents hardly even glance my way these days.

Arriving at the President's Mansion was a relief. The guards escorted us through the front gate, used only for the important people in society. I felt smug, knowing I was one of the youngest in the crowd. It was a greater relief when I realised my father will be giving speeches half the time, keeping up a commentary with Caesar Flickerman- who surprisingly is still alive, despite how long he had been the interviewer and the rebellion. I wondered what was he taking... Settling into the back seat with "I Neve" and "Katrina Monae" respectively sewn onto the back. I leant back, pulling out my phone, scanning through the messages.

"Behave yourself." My mother glared back at me, even though I hardly had done anything, before going to the front row, peering from the balcony to the mass of people below, their bright and contrasting costumes making them very obvious from the plain and formal red and gold setting. I shrugged lightly, ignoring her as a mass of people started filling up space, swarming towards her. Being the Head Gamemaker's wife was one that earned you popularity, fame and money, all which you did not need to work for. But of course, it was a precarious position. If the arena was not up to President Nyx Snow, granddaughter of the late President Coriolanus Snow, we were all as good as dead. Literally.

Leaning back, I ordered a random Avox to bring milk tea for me and coffee for Katrina. Letting a smile play on my lips, nodding politely to anyone adult that actually happened to notice me, I waited not-so-patiently for the Reaping start.

Let the screams and cries of terror begin. Let bonds be broken, family ripped from each other. Let them suffer.

The blood-lust in my eyes were unmistakable.


	2. Chapter 2

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p style="text-align: center;"emfont face="Nimbus Mono L, monospace"span lang="zh-CN"《/span/fontThe Reapingfont face="Nimbus Mono L, monospace"span lang="zh-CN"》/span/font/em/p  
hr /  
p style="text-align: center;"br /strongIana Serrick (District 1, Female, Age 17)/strong/p  
div style="text-align: justify;"strongThunk. emThe knife hit the target again,/em/strong despite it being rather dim in my basement. I felt a fleeting sense of accomplishment for finishing up my sack of knives for the day. It was, however, disrupted by squealing /br / "Iana! Slow down with the training! Come up here and try to look presentable!" My mother shouted down the basement, probably halfway through curling her hair or putting powder on her /br / "You know I hate those things." I muttered, referring to unnecessary items like makeup and heavy jewels that people put on themselves, tying to look pretty and ending up looking weird. Having been on the receiving hand of my mother trying to make me 'more attractive', as she puts it, I thought it was more emweird/em than empretty./em I also knew that I should not bother stopping my mother. And it was getting pretty /br / My mother threw a floral-printed dress at me, which I awkwardly caught while lugging the sack of knives. She muttered something which definitely had to do with the /br / "Yeah, I'm volunteering for the Reaping," I called out, my voice a sharp contrast to the roil of excitement in me. emThe Reaping/em. The thought sent a jolt through me. br /br / When I came out from my room, my bag left there and the dress I had changed into, my mother was all made up, even though she was not the one getting Reaped or volunteering. My father was in a casual suit, chatting with her, looking rather laid back. To be honest, now I felt more like my mother than him - pumped up and ready to start the games - just not in all the /br / The moment they saw me, both stood up, both started talking. One gushed about how my hair could be rearranged, the other about how I would impress the Capitol with my bold show of volunteering. The talking continued on our short walk to the District Building. They did not seem to mind - or even realize, in the first place - that neither were paying attention to each other, and lest of all me. Nor did they notice that they sometime contradict each other, like when mother said that the Capitolite's could be better if they had a proper color scale and father said that emeverything/em the Capitolites do, they are perfect and could not be /br / Soon, though it had felt like an hour, Peacekeepers separated me from my parents and took my blood sample. I was herded - I guess that was what herding was like - into a roped off area. I was near the front, being seventeen, and eligible for the Reaping for only this year and next. That brought back my point of volunteering this /br / Someone wave in the distance, out of the roped off area. At first, I thought it was some parents cheering on their child, before I caught his face. Sean Serrick, my twenty one old brother who had not volunteered when he was eighteen. I did not know why. He had not told, and I had not found the need to press. I caught is gaze and smiled slightly, before returning to look at the /br / "Good afternoon, denizens of District 1!" Pandora Phiox, our district escort I flinched slightly from her high-pitched voice and from the light that reflected from her mirror-like outfit. I could see others shading their eyes. Pandora did not look disturbed by the slight commotion. If I had to name her feeling, it would be smug satisfaction. "Welcome to the 101st Reaping of the emHunger Games/em!" It was then everyone started cheering, me included. It immediately subsided when a video was played. A collective groan could be felt ripple through the /br / "emIt was years ago, during the /emDark The Districts had been unhappy with what luxury they had been given, and decided to stage... An uprising."br /br / /emCut to shouts and screams and smoke and /br / "emIt was a suicide mission. Many innocent children died, killed by those in the Rebellion."/embr /br / More screams. A bomb being dropped on a crowd of /br / em"But in the end, good will always triumph evil. There was more good in the Capitol, for they had done nothing wrong, for they had only provided what was needed. And so fate favored the Capitol. And they won."/embr /br / Suddenly, the landscape was blank and peaceful. Then an old man appeared - the ex-President of Panem. I did not remembered his name, and it was not covered in any lessons or resources anywhere. I did not bother /br / em"But someone must pay for the damage caused. And so the Hunger Games was found. An annual game every year, showing two tributes per District. The total of twenty four tributes would then fight in an arena, until only one lives - the /emVictor."br /br / The flashing of numbers, from one to seventy four, death scenes... I bit my lips, thinking of me causing one of them, embeing/em one of /br / em"But some people never learn, and 75 years after the first disastrous accident, District 13, a district meant to be dead as part of the bargain, rose up and led the second Rebellion. It was a sad time for all of us. More blood was shed to maintain peace. In the end, the Capitol had to make drastic measures."/embr /br / Bombs, again and again. The video was long, and I could feel the crowd shuffle in /br / em" After it all, the Hunger Games continued..."/embr /br / The screen flickered blank, and I felt a smile spread across my face, fist clenched, waiting for the Reaping to finally start. I smoothed down my dress, my fingers having to find something to do, waiting for Pandora to reap the first girl. And then for me to burst onto stage, fist pumping the /br /hr /div  
div style="text-align: center;"br /strongJasper Jett (District 1, Male, Age 18)/strong/div  
div style="text-align: justify;"br /emstrongI felt like clawing my eyes out in impatience/strong/em. emGet on with it, pathetic Pandora./em It was an eternity of torture, waiting for our escort to get up from her seat and slowly bring out the two bowls with slips of papers. I know that in the thousands of paper, six of them had my name. The odds? Not that high, but the best possible. Unlike some others, I did not - could not - disgrace myself or my family by signing up for tessarae, the meager amount of rice and oil, just to have more slips in the bowl. No one in District 1, the best of all twelve districts, ever needed help. br /br / And I could always volunteer, because that is way better. br /br / "So, the female tribute representing District 1 in the 101st Hunger Games is..." Pandora trailed off, her hand mixing the slips of papers in the girl's bowl. I always thought she liked to hear herself speak, like many Capitolites, always finding a way to make the sentence longer and more /br / "Rosemarie Jett!" A chorus of emI volunteer/em rose from the sixteen to eighteen year old, each pushing and shoving to get to the stage first. Like this, most people will get no where. Rose exchanged a look with me and I winked, watching as she casually strolled forward...br /br / And was interrupted by another girl, who skipped up the stage seconds before Rose could. Her fist was swinging in the air, like blonde hair behind her. I saw Rose scowl and stepped back, knowing she was unable to do anything. Because of an incident a few years ago, it had become an unspoken rule that the first person on stage will be the /br / The crowd of girls slowly quieted, resentment showing in their faces. It was like when a girl had snatched up the hottest, newest, limited edition clothes. These girls, they could kill to get what they want. Which was fine, this being the Hunger Games Reaping and /br / "I am Iana Serrick, and I volunteer as tribute!" Her voice cut across any other girls trying the impossible. There, it was done, and she was the female /br / "And the male...br /br / "Jasper Jett!" Unconsciously, I had started moving up the stage, but it took me a few steps to realize that it was my name. The shock froze me for a second, and it was all that was needed for another boy - looking really small and girl-like - to leap up. Immediately, I lunged forward and grabbed him, swinging him behind and using the force to propel myself up the steps of the /br / Slowly, casually, I walked up, winking at the girls and causing them to make goo-goo eyes. emAah, more like it./em Finally, the attention I deserved was shone on /br / "Hey girl, let's keep this simple, 'kay?" I whispered to Iana, my fingers catching strands of her hair. Immediately, she swatted it away, disgust showing on her /br / "I'm winning the Games," she hissed, her voice not lowered or /br / "Aah, feisty..." I teased, though inside I was disappointed. She was one more opponent to have to defeat. Too bad she was not like dumber side of District 1 - charm those, and get emanything/em you want out of them. Bummer, but oh well. I'll have to deal with her first. We shook hands out of formality while I observed /br / It was obvious she had trained a lot, much more than the usual. There were few like her, but not many. Most girls preferred winning their games by lies and trickery, by charming everyone and being the favorite. The Gamemakers would have to keep you alive then. I wondered if she could do that. I knew I could, and that was exactly how I was going to /br / "Ladies and gentleman of District 1, I present to you Iana Serrick, the female volunteer, and Jasper Jett, the male tributes..." I cringed inside, knowing that Iana's title as the volunteer sounded way better than a emtribute./em So I looked at the cameras, smiled and waved, while Pandora screamed the last few words:br /br / "Of the 101st Hunger Games!"/div 


End file.
